


I Can't Love You; My Touch Will Kill You

by boredom



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sex, Love, M/M, Pining, Pining Aziraphale (Good Omens), Pining Crowley (Good Omens), Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Suicide Attempt, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 05:38:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20040808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boredom/pseuds/boredom
Summary: When the angels Fell from Heaven, they could no longer interact with anything holy, including other angels. Lest they burn as if bathed in Holy Water. Aziraphale and Crowley know this, but they can't stop from growing closer through centuries of shared history.





	I Can't Love You; My Touch Will Kill You

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [I Can't Love You; My Touch Will Kill You - Traduction](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20347879) by [Rikka_kun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rikka_kun/pseuds/Rikka_kun)

> Based on a post from Tumblr that I can't find now even though I was sure I saved it! If anyone has a link to the post then please send it to me so I can link this amazing head canon. Also, an excuse to be flowery and dramatic? Sign me up!

It was done. The great war had divided the angels of Heaven into two groups: the Fallen and those who still sided with the Almighty. Aziraphale chose the Almighty. He was deeply afraid. He questioned things regularly. He wasn’t a good angel. He slacked off and did things without submitting the proper paperwork. If even Lucifer, the Morningstar, could fall, then how was he still here? 

Around him, his comrades looked weary. Some were sporting injuries from the fight while others looked hopeless. They had lost some in the war, but it was a victory. A bloody, heartless victory that didn’t solve anything. The angels who had Fallen were now a new creation known as ‘demons’. They had their holy essence stripped from them and were now mere shadows of the beings they once were. Heaven had changed as well. What used to be a place of light, laughter, and love, was now a cold and empty palace filled with silence. It was as if breathing the wrong way was enough to Fall. 

It was only a matter of time before Aziraphale did something wrong. Would it be any better in Hell? Perhaps they were kinder down there. Perhaps there was a sense of camaraderie not currently in Heaven. Perhaps there was music and light. 

The archangels Michael and Gabriel stepped into the room. Michael cleared their throat. 

“The battle was hard and long, but we have succeeded in pushing back Lucifer’s forces.” 

There was no applause, no cheering, just the empty silence surrounding and crushing them. 

Michael continued. “That does not mean that the war is over. We can’t touch the demons; at least not now. They have retreated to Hell where they will remain. No doubt cooking up another scheme to finally overthrow the forces of Heaven.”

Aziraphale felt his body grow cold. This wasn’t the end? They had won, but there was still more work to be done? He almost started to cry. It wasn’t fair. Why did everyone have to fight? Where did the Almighty say she wanted a war? Damn! The questions were springing forth in his mind faster than he could quell them. At this rate, he’d be out of Heaven by sundown. 

“We will spend our time preparing. Humanity is the next step in the Great Plan. Adam and Eve are down in the Garden now. With luck, they will usher in a new era of peace and tranquility.” Michael nodded and stepped back so Gabriel could start talking. 

It was a lot of boring talk about war and strategy and such. Aziraphale stopped paying attention. It felt like an eternity, but finally, the archangels had finished their presentation and everyone was allowed to go back to their misery. 

Aziraphale was going to walk around, stretch his legs for a bit when a heavy hand fell on his shoulder. He jumped, remembering a near blow during the battle. It was Gabriel. 

“Aziraphale, right?” 

He nodded. “Yes, sir,” he quickly added, not wanting to seem as though he were being insubordinate.

The angel grinned. “Today is your lucky day. The Almighty has a special job for you.” 

“For me?” That didn’t sound like the Almighty? Usually she was a lot more reserved when it came to what she actually wanted. Perhaps Gabriel was trying to butter him up for some horrific job that no one wanted to do. 

“That’s right. You know the Garden of Eden? The thing Michael was talking about earlier?” 

“Yes, with Adam and Eve.” He was glad he had been paying attention for that part. 

“Well, we have it on good authority that the opposition is going to try something. We need someone to help guard the Eastern Gate and, congratulations, you’ve been chosen.” Even though he was smiling, there was no warmth to it. It was as if he were smiling because he had to, not because he wanted to. 

“Ah, that is a big job.” Aziraphale smiled at him. He began to pick at his fingers, his body creating uncomfortable sensations in his midsection. 

“It is. But if the Almighty specifically requested you, I’m sure you’ll do great. She is, afterall, omniscient, omnipresent, and omnipotent. Now, here’s a flaming sword and you’ll need to get a body.” 

“Right, a body for the Garden.” 

Another clap on the shoulder and Gabriel walked off. 

Aziraphale let his shoulders slump, the flaming sword hot in his hands. He could do some serious damage with it and didn’t like to think of the things he’d have to be guarding against. Perhaps the demons were foul, violent creatures who wouldn’t hesitate to rip his wings out if they got the chance. 

“Oh, one more thing,” Gabriel said, zooming back and causing Aziraphale to jump. “Now that the opposition are all demons, they’re no longer holy. They’re now unholy which means that they pose a danger to you.” 

“More so than they already do?” Oh, what had Aziraphale gotten himself into?

“Yes. You are a holy being made out of.... Holiness which means that if anything unholy touches you, you might die.” 

Aziraphale must have paled because Gabriel was clapping him on the back. 

“I’m warning you so you can be prepared. The demons might not come at you, swords a blazing. They might sneak up behind you and attempt to touch you to reduce you to ash. So, be on the look out.” 

Aziraphale nodded. 

“Now, off you go. The gate isn’t going to guard itself.” This time, Gabriel left permanently and Aziraphale had a sick sensation in his yet to be created stomach. 

“Just don’t let them touch you, and you’ll be fine.” He told himself. “You can do this. There’s no way you won’t fail.”

oOoOoOo

He had royally screwed up. In fact, one might even say Aziraphale had fucked up. Though the word hadn’t been invented yet, it was about to be. He was so concerned about making sure nothing got through the Eastern Gate that he completely forgot that demons were crafty little buggers and one somehow managed to get it. 

God was going to be pissed. She was quite possibly going to smite Adam, Eve, and then Aziraphale. He didn’t much care what happened to him, but if Adam and Eve were in the Garden come sundown, they’d be doomed. But they’d also be doomed outside as well. He had to do something. 

Perhaps it wasn’t the brightest idea, but he handed the flaming sword to Adam, created a hole in the wall and shooed them out. He prayed the sword would keep them and their children safe. Poor Eve was already facing discomfort with the new life she was growing inside her. And the vicious animals were just waiting for a tasty snack. 

God had yet to come down and smite him, but he was preparing himself for it. He stood atop the wall and looked out at the desert and of the two new humans now making their way through the world. 

So lost in thought and worry was he that he didn’t realize the snake beside him was not actually a snake at all, but a demon until after he had very near finished his transformation. 

How could he have been so stupid? The snake had come up behind him and could have touched him. One flick of the tongue was all it took to reduce Aziraphale to ash. 

But the demon did not seem interested in reducing Aziraphale to ash. Instead, Crawly was inquisitive, clever, and seemed rather bored by the whole thing. It was almost as if he were just doing his job. Aziraphale relaxed slightly, though he made sure to keep his distance. Even if this demon didn’t want to kill him, he might by accident. They could not touch. 

The rain started to come down. 

Was it holy? Best not risk it. He put up his wing to shelter the strange demon. He had no good excuse as to why he did this. He himself wasn’t sure why he did this. But he had and Crawly had stepped closer. 

Aziraphale jumped back. 

“What? Did I do something wrong?” Crawly asked. 

“Oh, no, but we mustn’t touch,” he explained. Would it do to reveal his weakness to an enemy? Even a friendly one could still stab you in the back.

“Ah, right. Wouldn’t want me melting.” Crawly mused. 

“You melting?” Aziraphale gasped. 

“Mm, yeah. You’re holy so if I touch you, it’s like touching Holy Water. Wouldn’t want that. Not a pleasant way to go.” 

Aziraphale relaxed. “Yes, I was warned that touching a demon would be like touching Hellfire and would burn me to ash. I’d rather not go out that way.” 

Not long after the rain let up, Crawly left and Aziraphale was left to deal with the fallout. Surprisingly, he did not Fall nor did the Almighty smite him. However, he was assigned to help guide humans towards the light for the foreseeable future. It seemed like an impossibly large task with just him on this entire Earth. He tried his best, but sometimes places fell through the cracks. 

Crawly had once again appeared behind him during the construction of the Arc. They kept their distance, never touching and being rather professional about the whole thing. They weren’t friends. They weren’t even acquaintances. They were enemies. They should be fighting, not talking. But Aziraphale had never been one for fighting and it was nice to talk to someone who understood what it was like to be the only one of your kind regularly on Earth. 

As long as they didn’t touch, they’d be fine. 

oOoOoOo

Things were not fine. Not by a long shot. Somehow, despite rarely seeing each other, Crowley (that’s what he was calling himself nowadays) had managed to weedle something of a friendship out of Aziraphale. 

He had tried his best to be a good angel. He had tried to keep his distance, but there was something so tempting about Crowley. He was a demon, but he wasn’t vicious. He could be kind, though he didn’t enjoy being called out for his good deeds. As much as Aziraphale hated to admit it (and he would never admit it out loud) there were some angels who scared him more than Crowley. 

What was worse, however, was that humans and their needs had started to rub off on Aziraphale. He had taken to eating and drinking, despite not needing to. He had tried sex a few times, with varying degrees of success and pleasure. He wore nice clothes and read the most indulgent books. He made excuses about trying to blend in more, but humans were a rather obtuse lot. If it didn’t directly concern them, they rarely noticed. You could get away with quite a lot so long as no humans were inconvenienced by it. 

He had also started to get a grasp on love. Being a being of love, he thought he knew a good deal about the subject. Then the Greeks came out with the idea that there were seven types of love and Aziraphale was mesmerized. 

Love of the body, of the mind, of the soul, of the self, of the child, on and on it went. Aziraphale wanted to experience all of these types of love. He firmly believed that having a well-rounded amount of love in all forms was crucial to making the world a better place. He was ecstatic in his research and zealous in his attempts to feel all the forms of love. Like sex, he had varying degrees of success. 

Crowley popped in and out of his life, miracling him out of tough situations and developing something of a friendship with Aziraphale. It was helped ease the ache in his soul and make him feel less alone. 

He only realized after the church bombing that what he was feeling for Crowley was love. Crowley had saved him, true. But this could have been a selfish desire on his part. If Aziraphale were discorporated, there was no telling how long it would take to get a new body. That was time Crowley would have to spend actually doing his job instead of trying to foist his responsibilities on Aziraphale. 

The books, however. The books had no bearing on Crowley’s selfish needs and wants. Aziraphale would have been devastated, true, but in the long run it wouldn’t actually affect Crowley. Still, he saved them knowing Aziraphale would be upset. As he handed the books back to him, Aziraphale realized with the swell in his heart that he loved Crowley. He loved him in all forms (maybe not love of a child). He wanted to hear about his day and protect him from harm and do things that made him happy. 

He wanted Crowley by his side for eternity. 

Just as quickly as he had come to this realization, the mood was shattered. Even if he loved Crowley, it could never be. The closer they got, the more likely they would accidentally touch. Aziraphale could never live with himself knowing he had accidentally killed his love. No, they had to keep their distance. He couldn’t risk it. 

Despite Aziraphale’s best attempt to keep his distance from Crowley, Crowley had other plans. After he had given him the Holy Water, Crowley started hanging around a lot more. They’d drink in the back room of the bookshop. Crowley would bring him his favorite pastries. They’d drive in that infernal car of his. Aziraphale had to put a stop to this, even if it killed his heart he couldn’t risk falling in deeper. He was already getting too close when drunk. He had to push Crowley away.

oOoOoOo

“What are you so afraid of?” Crowley yelled, now much more sober than he was ten minutes ago. 

“Crowley, you know how dangerous this is. If we get caught--”

“We have been consorting for thousands of years and we’ve never gotten caught.” he was storming around the bookshop. Aziraphale could see the steam rise from his skin and burn marks etch themselves into the floor where he had stepped. 

“We never were around one another so much before. Crowley, we have to take a step back.” Aziraphale looked down at his own wine glass. Saying these things was breaking his heart. But it all came to ahead the other day. 

They had been sitting in St. James’ Park feeding the ducks. There was a feather or something in Aziraphale’s hair and Crowley had reached up to pull it out. Aziraphale had luckily seen his hand coming for his face and jumped back before Crowley could touch him. They were so close to annihilating each other with a casual touch most lovers wouldn’t even think about. And they weren’t even lovers. He had to put a stop to it. 

“You’re lying!” Crowley snapped. “You always lie to me about everything.” 

Aziraphale was put off by this. “Since when have I lied to you? You’re the demon. You’re the one whose job it is to tempt and sully.” 

“Oh, big words coming from someone who has participated in all of the deadly sins. You act so high and mighty just because you’re an angel. Well guess what? I was an angel once too. All of us demons were. You think you can’t do wrong, take a look around you, Aziraphale. Heaven is full of self-righteous dicks just like yourself!” 

He stormed out the door and slammed it shut, causing the glass to shatter all over the floor. 

Aziraphale took a deep breath and drank the rest of the wine before miracling the window back in place. Crowley’s words had cut deep. He knew there was some truth to them, though he dare not say it out loud. This was all to protect him. They needed to go back to a time when they were distant to one another, both spatially and emotionally. Perhaps Aziraphale was being selfish, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t risk it. 

oOoOoOo

They hadn’t spoken since that fight. It wasn’t uncommon for them to go years, sometimes centuries without contact. Still, it cut Aziraphale deep. Just when he had finally come to terms with his love for Crowley, he had shut him out. 

When Gabriel told him about the antichrist, Aziraphale had assumed the worst. Crowley would have told him if the plan was being set into motion. Then again, he and Crowley had not made up since their fight. Perhaps Aziraphale had gone too far. 

Then, Crowley called him and wanted to talk about Armageddon. Aziraphale was ashamed with how he had assumed Crowley was petty enough not to tell him something as important as this. He truly was a horrible being. 

“Look, I don’t know why you decided to shut me out all those years ago, but we need to come up with something to stop Armageddon,” Crowley said back at the bookshop. 

Aziraphale, now completely sober, was wishing he had stayed drunk a bit more. The plan for each of them to influence Warlock had been hatched. Crowley was right; they needed to figure this out before they started working so closely together. Even when they saw each other regularly, there would still be weeks, sometimes even months between meetings. 

Aziraphale looked down at his glass. “Do you remember the day before the fight, what happened?” 

Crowley’s brow furrowed. “What does that have to do with anything? I thought everything was going fine.” 

“It was, but you almost touched me.” He managed to bite out. Even now, after all of these years, his heart sped up with the thought of what could have happened. 

Crowley opened and closed his mouth. 

Aziraphale pressed on. “We had been growing closer, ever since the Church and the Blitz. I was worried that one day we’d slip up. One day we’d forget that we’re not human and do something.” He looked up at Crowley, his eyes wet. Damn. “Crowley, I don’t want to be the reason you die. And I don’t know how much of a touch it takes to kill you. That day I realized that if we got any closer, something might happen.”

“And instead of talking to me about it you decided to piss me off?” Crowley muttered, staring down at his own glass. 

“You were right. I was lying to you. I was hoping to protect you.” 

“I don’t need your protection, angel.” There was no bite to the words. 

“Just as I don’t need your protection, and yet you always come for me.” He smiled. If they were human, perhaps this would be the moment he’d reach out and take Crowley’s hand. He so desperately wished to touch it. Was it warm? Soft? How would those fingers feel in his palm? 

He pushed the thoughts away. “Even now I fear that we might slip up. We might touch one another.”

Crowley didn’t argue. “I’ll come up with something. There has to be some way to keep from touching skin.” 

As a nanny, Crowley always wore gloves. For the first time in six thousand years, Aziraphale got to hold her hand. It wasn’t warm or cool. It was slick leather against his own palm. 

“I didn’t miracle any of these clothes like I normally do,” Crowley explained. “They’ve all been bought like yours.” She made a face. “You should be safe to touch them.” 

Aziraphale smiled and squeezed her hand. This would be enough. He had gone longer with less. He could be happy for what he was given. 

Except, now that the gates had opened he found himself yearning for more. They each had a pair of gloves to wear and had started holding hands often. Sometimes they’d even let their shoulders and arms brush. The fabric protected them and there was not a singed palm in sight. 

But at night, when Aziraphale was alone, he’d dream about Crowley’s skin on his. Their hands clasped together. Their legs tangled together. If he was feeling particularly blasphemous, their mouths and tongues together. It shamed him to think such lewd thoughts of Crowley. It felt invasive. After all, he didn’t know if Crowley felt the same way about him. He knew she loved him, but in what capacity it was unclear. 

Before there had been a comfortable distance between them; a safe partnership that allowed them to live comfortably on Earth together. Now, Aziraphale feared that even if they were to stop Armageddon, he’d never be able to enjoy the new life they had given Earth. He’d never be able to live for eternity without feeling Crowley’s skin on his. 

oOoOoOo

“They’re going to punish us. You know this, right?” Aziraphale asked in the quiet of Crowley’s apartment. 

They were sitting on opposite couches, facing one another, though both were staring at their hands. 

“I won’t let them get to you. I’ll fight all of Heaven if I have to,” Crowley growled. 

“I’m flattered by the sentiment,” he said, “but you cannot think that you’d be any match for the entire legion of Heaven? I’ll do my best to protect you from Hell, but there’s only so much one can do.” 

“I won’t let Hell get to you either.” 

He rolled his eyes. “So you’re going to single-handedly fight off ten million angels and ten million demons all thirsting for revenge because we wouldn’t let them have their war?”

Crowley leapt up and swept the knick-knacks and magazines off the coffee table. “We have to do something! I refuse to sit around here and wait for punishment. I’m done playing their game.”

“Well that was uncalled for,” Aziraphale said, looking at the broken vase scattered on the floor. 

“How are you so calm about this? If we don’t figure something out, they’ll destroy us. How can you make this big show of facing off against Satan himself but a bunch of angels has you accepting your fate?” Crowley yelled. 

Aziraphale was tired. He was tired of not knowing what God’s plan was. He was tired of everyone interpreting it and then demanding he follow their interpretations. He was tired of not being able to touch the one he loved. 

“Crowley, it’s not that I want to accept my fate, but I don’t know how we can get out of this. They’ll want to make an example of us. They’ll want us gone. This isn’t some plan that’s up to interpretation. This is a vengeful group who are angry because they didn’t get what they wanted.” 

“So, what do you suggest we do?” 

Aziraphale knew that this may be the last night he and Crowley had together. He had Agnes’s prophecy but even that wasn’t providing much help. 

Quietly, cautiously, he said, “I want to hold your hand.”

Crowley froze, then shook his head. His glasses were off and Aziraphale could see the pain that flitted over his features. “Angel, you know we can’t. You know what would happen.”

“I know, but you’re right. I’m done playing by their rules and doing what they want. They want to make an example of us. I want to beat them to it.” 

“I-I can’t. I can’t knowingly hurt you, Aziraphale.” He looked away and Aziraphale could see the tears gathering in his eyes. 

He stood up and went to his side. “Crowley, please look at me.” 

“No.” 

He laughed, despite the gravity of the situation. “Please?”

“If I look at you, I’ll give into you. You know I can’t resist your pitiful stare.” 

He smiled. “You mean the look that got you to make Hamlet a success?” 

He made a noncommittal grunt. 

“I know you don’t want to hurt me, but if we let Heaven and Hell catch us, they’ll drag it out. It could be an eternity of torture. I don’t want that, Crowley.” 

“We’ll run away, together.” He whipped around and spread his arms out wide. “Alpha Centauri is still on the table. We could do it.” 

“For how long? They’ll catch up with us eventually. They won’t rest until they have their revenge.” 

Crowley’s shoulders slumped. “And you’re sure you don’t know what the prophecy means?” 

He nodded. “I have theories, but none of them would actually work. We’re running out of time.” 

Crowley bit his lip, tears finally starting to stream down his face. “Angel, please think of something else. Please, anything but this.” 

Aziraphale’s face was also starting to get wet. He smiled, through the tears. Crowley had worked so hard to protect him through the centuries. He was always there to get him out of a tight spot, always indulging him and never judging him. He racked his brain, desperate for something. His throat felt as though something were stuck in it. 

His facade broke, the smile dropped and tears flowed freely. “I’m so sorry, Crowley. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what else to do. I can’t, I can’t think of anything. I love you and it’s not enough.” 

He crumpled down into the chair and buried his face in his hands. It was cruel of him to ask for Crowley to do such a thing. He was desperate for one last touch, one last bit of love before it was all stripped away from him. But he also couldn’t ask Crowley to kill him. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he also couldn’t kill Crowley. No matter how much he wanted to touch and kiss and hold, he couldn’t be selfish. If Crowley wanted to try and face down Heaven and Hell, then Aziraphale would stand beside him. 

“Ah, for someone’s sake.” 

The couch dipped next to him. Aziraphale looked up to see Crowley furiously scrubbing at his eyes. 

“You’re right. You’re always right. I can’t stand to think of what they’d do to you down there, angel.” 

“And I don’t want to imagine what they’d do to you either.” 

Crowley wiped his nose on his sleeve, causing Aziraphale to wrinkle his own in disgust. “You have tissues right next to you.”

“Don’t want to use them.” He took a deep breath and turned to him. “I want to touch you, without gloves. Without clothes. Even if it kills me. Even if it kills you. I want us to go out with love, rather than hate.”

“The ultimate middle finger to their plan. We ruin the Great Plan and then we ruin their plan for revenge.” 

“If we’re going to do this, then let’s go all the way,” Crowley said. 

“What, you mean sex?” My, how forward.

Crowley turned red. “Um, well, I’m not sure we would get that far before we, you know, ceased to exist. But I do want to kiss you.” He moved forward. “Can I kiss you?” 

Aziraphale’s heart soared. “Yes. Yes, of course you can.” 

“Even if it will kill you?”

The mood soured. They had no choice. “If this is how I die, then I die happy; knowing that you love me. And I hope you know that I love you. Eros, Philia, Ludus, Pragma, Agape, and Philautia.” 

“I thought there was one more?” 

“Well, I’m not your parent so I don’t really feel Storge towards you.” 

Crowley laughed and stood up. “If we’re going to do this, I want to do this right.” 

Aziraphale followed. They stood, facing each other. 

“You’re eyes are so beautiful. Even back in the Garden I thought they were beautiful.” 

Crowley truly did look like a being in love. It was coming off of him in waves and almost overwhelming Aziraphale. He was glad. Not many people got to die knowing they were truly, deeply, unconditionally loved. 

“Do you sense my love for you?” he asked. 

Crowley’s smile dropped. “No. You know demons can’t sense love.” 

“But humans can, and they’re not occult or ethereal. If you were a human, would you be able to sense it?” 

He looked at him for a moment and smiled. “Yeah. I think I could.” His smile dropped again and his eyes moved to trace his face. 

Aziraphale also studied every inch of Crowley’s face. This was the last time he’d see him. Even if he were to die immediately afterwards, he still wanted the image to be burned into his mind in his final moments. He didn’t know how long it would take to die. Would it be mere fractions of a second, or would it be minutes? He hoped for the former. He didn’t want Crowley to be in pain. 

“Are you ready, my dear?” They could still back out. They could still try and fight. 

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” 

There was no time to take it slow. He couldn’t cup his face and pause before going in. It had to be as quick as possible. Crowley’s hand came up to his face as their lips met in an instant. Mouths opened and tongues explored. Aziraphale brought his hands up to tangle in Crowley’s hair and Crowley’s other hand wrapped tightly around his waist. The love Crowley had for him filled his entire being. He felt whole. The touch he had been longing for for six thousand years had finally been given to him. It was everything he ever wanted and more.

They pulled away, both frowning. 

“Did you feel anything?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Nope. You?”

Aziraphale took stock of his body. “Not even a tingle.”

“Do you think we have to touch more?” 

“It’s worth a try.” 

Fourty-five minutes and two fantastic rounds of sex later, Crowley and Aziraphale were naked on the floor of his living room, panting, clothes strewn about the apartment. Crowley’s pants somehow managed to stick themselves to the ceiling. 

“I think,” Aziraphale panted, “I think Heaven and Hell may not have known what they were talking about with this whole ‘touching the enemy will kill you’ idea.” 

“I literally came inside you. And you came inside me. How are you not melting?” Crowley said. “How am I not melting?”

“Okay, well, there goes plan A.” He sat up, a bit embarrassed to see that Crowley’s plants had become much more verdant, alive and full of flowers than they were before that bought of physical affection. 

“Do we have a Plan B, or is Alpha Centauri our Plan B?” Crowley’s hand was running up and down his thigh. 

There was a delicious ache in his bones and he felt very satisfied with the whole experience. Oscar Wilde had nothing on Crowley. Then again, Oscar Wilde did not have Crowley’s flexibility or fantastically talented tongue. Any human would have a tough time competing with that. 

Aziraphale thought back over the prophecy and the newfound knowledge that they could touch without either of them dying. Then, everything clicked into place. 

“You remember when you got drunk because you thought I died?” 

Crowley scowled. “I did not get drunk. I grieved in the same way that cool people grieved.” 

Aziraphale waved a hand at him. “Whatever you want to call it, my dear. Still, I think I might have the solution to our problems. We’ll have to be smart about this, though.” 

“Oh, what’d you have in mind?” 

Aziraphale smiled at him. “It’ll require a lot more than just touching.” 

“My angel, what are you up to?” 

The plan was hatched. Heaven and Hell were fooled. And Aziraphale and Crowley spent the rest of their lives touching. After a few centuries, the sex died down. From fifteen times a day, to three times a day. Though there was still lots of cuddling and hand holding (a disgusting amount if Aziraphale were being honest). There were books Aziraphale had to read and restaurants he had to try, after all. And Crowley held his hand the entire time without gloves.


End file.
